


hell-bent for leather

by thunderylee



Category: KAT-TUN (Band), NewS (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, Dominant/Submissive Roleplay, Leather, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-07-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 07:05:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12427482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Yamapi has a newfound appreciation for leather.





	hell-bent for leather

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written with ayamehadouken for kink bingo.

On his eye-opening journey halfway across America, Yamapi discovered an appreciation for leather beyond his experience with costumes, jackets, and the occasional pants. He loves the smell, the texture, the way it feels against his skin, and the way it makes _him_ feel. He can’t exactly explain it, just that there’s this surge of energy whenever he’s around it, only intensifying the more contact he makes.

He’d also started associating leather with motorcycles, which brings with it a sense of thrill and adventure that goes far beyond a normal attraction. He shivers whenever a motorcycle blows by him on the road; even just seeing one parked makes him yearn for the feel of the rumble under his body, the wind whipping through his hair, and the scent of leather infiltrating his senses.

He should really buy one, but he’d rarely use it. It would collect dust while he works, and probably all he would do is think about being on it, letting it take him for a ride. Not to mention they’re incredibly dangerous, though that is mainly the basis of their appeal. Upon further thought, Yamapi remembers that he knows someone with a bike, someone whom he’s pretty sure feels the same way about it, what with his wild demeanor and on-the-edge attitude.

It’s been awhile since Yamapi’s seen Koki, but he’s still got his phone number. He’s not sure what Koki’s schedule is like lately, but he’s got some downtime coming up. Maybe they can meet up somewhere, and Yamapi can broach the subject.

He sends a short text off, trying not to be impatient about the reply.

_Sure! It’d be great to see you again!_ the emoji-filled message declares, and Yamapi smiles at the excitability of his longtime friend. They work out the time and place, sooner than later, and Yamapi debates sending the last message until his thumb presses the button on its own.

_I want to see your bike._

_LOL OK_ is the response, and Yamapi goes straight to his coat closet to pull out his leather jacket, breathing in the smell and feeling the smoothness under his fingers. It’s completely normal to hug things that make him feel good, he reasons, and even if it’s not, nobody knows he’s doing it but him.

Yamapi spills over his own hand as he imagines the rumble of engines, leather jacket nearly smothering him as he writhes on his mattress.

*

Their meeting arrives faster than Yamapi anticipates, excitement thrumming through his veins. It’s a cool day, breeze brisk enough to warrant wearing his leather jacket.

Koki waves at him from a corner booth in the back of the pub they’d agreed to meet at, hardly inconspicuous in his own bright blue leather jacket. He looks up at Yamapi from his seat, grinning as he says, “I picked this place since it’s close to my garage.”

Yamapi can tell that that’s where Koki’s been, the faint hint of gasoline mingling with his cologne and the leather of his jacket.

He doesn’t realize he’s leaned closer until he hears Koki laugh, unnerved by the lack of personal space. “Nice to see you, too,” he jokes, slinging a friendly arm over Yamapi’s back since he can’t quite reach his shoulders.

“Can we go for a ride?” Yamapi asks. “Wherever you want.”

“Sure,” Koki replies, flashing an understanding smile. “Sometimes you just need to get away for awhile, right? I get you. Let’s go.”

Yamapi doesn’t think that’s it at all, but he’s not about to argue as they exit the pub without ordering and Koki hops on his motorcycle, patting the seat behind him. Carefully Yamapi straddles the seat and takes the proffered helmet.

“Now hold on,” Koki tells him, a hint of humor to his voice. “I don’t want to be responsible for the famous Yamapi falling off my bike.”

Rolling his eyes, even though Koki can’t see it, Yamapi slings his arms around Koki’s waist and holds on tight. He feels hard abs under his hands and resists the automatic urge to run his fingers across them as the faint smell of Koki’s jacket wafts up to his nose.

And they take off.

All Yamapi knows is the way Koki’s abs subtly shift, and the rumbling of the engine between his legs. The wind rushes past them, unable to diminish the scent of Koki’s jacket.

Before long, Yamapi feels Koki laughing more than hears him. He wonders why, until he realizes he’s half-hard and pressed up against Koki. Yamapi doesn’t have time to feel mortified as Koki slows to a stop in a narrow alley. Koki lets the bike idle for a moment before killing the engine so he can be heard.

“So, Yamapi, what’s got you so riled up? You should tell me, maybe I can help you out.”

Yamapi can hear the smirk in Koki’s voice.

He’s already busted, so he may as well be honest. “It’s the leather,” he tells him, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I really like it.”

“Do you.” It’s a statement, not a question, but Yamapi nods anyway. “In that case, we should go to my place. I have a lot of leather items that you may like. What do you say?”

Yamapi’s grunt is automatic, his arms tightening around Koki’s waist, and he swears he can feel Koki chuckle as he turns the engine over again. He revs it a little longer than necessary, probably to drive Yamapi crazy, and it’s a whole different kind of rush when they start moving again.

The ride back to Koki’s place seems to fly by, and Yamapi wonders about what sort of leather items he could be speaking of. Collars, thick and unyielding, or well-worn with age? Yamapi seems to remember seeing Koki wearing a wide cuff on his wrist pretty often; maybe Koki’s also got the sort of cuffs that have rings to hold them together. Suddenly he has a vision of Koki nestled between his legs, wearing nothing but a collar.

Yamapi’s arousal surges at the image, and he sucks in a breath in an attempt to keep from digging his fingers into Koki’s sides as he drives.

Koki shivers, and though it could be from the motorcycle or the wind, Yamapi doubts it is. He feels it against his chest and imagines it happening later, making Koki shiver with his bare hand, and it takes all of his willpower not to rub off against Koki’s back on the way to his apartment.

Yamapi’s not sure what he was expecting upon arrival, but walking into a zoo was not it. Koki kneels down to greet his dogs and Yamapi smiles at the sight of him so affectionate. For years Koki tried to maintain a hardcore thug image, and Yamapi never bought it because Koki was the guy who teared up during chick flicks and treats his pets like his babies.

Briefly he looks up at Yamapi before getting to his feet, and the promising look in his eye makes Yamapi want to keep him down there. “What are you into, Yamapi?”

“Don’t call me that,” Yamapi answers evenly, and Koki ‘s eyes turn curious. “Not like this.”

“Tomo-kun,” Koki says, then smirks. “Or Tomo- _sama_.”

The next second has Yamapi grabbing Koki by the arm, nerves singeing at the lust burning in his eyes as he pulls him to his chest and looks down at him. “You had something to show me?”

“Yes,” Koki breathes, and leads Yamapi to his spare room. Against the far wall is a display case, just like in a shop, and it’s full of various and sundry bits of metal and chain and as promised, a whole section devoted to leather. Koki drops to his knees next to its door, furthering Yamapi’s opinion on where he’d like the other to spend time during their playtime.

“Go ahead, Tomo-sama,” Koki says softly. Yamapi wonders if it would be too forward to pet him, running fingers through his hair just like he’d watched Koki pet his dogs.

He does it anyway. Koki leans into the touch, making a faint happy noise in the back of his throat. Yamapi reluctantly lets go to focus on the things Koki has on display.

The first thing he sees is a collar, which he fingers carefully and nearly jumps out of his skin from the resulting surge of electricity. Next to it is a vest and chaps — riding gear, he supposes — but all Yamapi can see is Koki covered in all leather, writhing beneath him, and his vision tints red.

“I’d like you to wear these,” Yamapi tells him, not recognizing his own voice as he holds up the items for Koki to see. “And only these.”

Something flashes in Koki’s eyes as he nods, and Yamapi wonders how he missed discovering _this_ side of his friend for all of these years. Koki doesn’t flinch as Yamapi leans down and cups his face; in fact, he tilts his head into it, much like one of his pets would, and Yamapi’s skin burns even hotter.

“May I make a request, Tomo-sama?” Koki asks. Yamapi nods, wondering what it could be, and Koki continues. “I have a sort of harness, made from leather, and I think it would look amazing on you. If it would please you, of course.”

Yamapi considers it for a moment, then nods. Koki reaches into the case again and pulls out something that just looks like a belt from where he’s standing. He passes it up to Yamapi, then waits for instruction.

“Put it on me,” Yamapi orders, and Koki rushes to remove Yamapi’s jacket, carefully placing it on a nearby chair, and pull his shirt over his head. Yamapi watches Koki as he slowly unravels the leather around his arms and head, pulling it down over his chest.

It’s gentle the way Koki smoothes out the material to fit the ridges of Yamapi’s pecs and abs. Yamapi loves the way it feels on his skin, tight and restricting, yet powerful at the same time. Running his fingers over it, he feels even more arousal flood his veins and wonders why the fuck Koki is still dressed.

“Now you,” Yamapi says. “Take your clothes off.”

Koki keeps his eyes locked on Yamapi’s as he shrugs out of his jacket and lets it fall to the floor behind him. He doesn’t waste time with the rest of his clothes, stripping out of his t-shirt and letting his jeans fall from his hips. Even with how quickly Koki complies, it still takes forever to Yamapi.

Once Koki’s finished with his clothes, he pauses, as if waiting for Yamapi’s approval.

Yamapi runs a finger along Koki’s arm, arousal pooling in his groin as he watches and feels Koki shiver, just like he wanted. Those soft eyes are on him, obediently, and Yamapi’s mind is filled with images of demands and submission.

“How far do you want to take this?” he asks.

“As far as you want to go,” Koki answers. “I love this shit.”

“Will you… serve me?”

“Yes.” Koki inhales sharply, followed by this small, breathy voice. “I would be happy to serve you, Tomo-sama.”

Yamapi’s ego purrs as his hand roams Koki’s chest, settling down at his waist and thumbing his hip. Koki is already hard and leaking and Yamapi has so many plans for him, filthy scenarios he’s only jerked off to, because everyone fantasizes about having a sex slave at least once.

Now his sex slave will be clad in leather.

Wordlessly, Yamapi holds the chaps out; Koki takes them without question and shimmies into them. They’re fitted closely, shiny silver zippers running down the outside of the legs purely decoration. For a second, it seems like Koki desperately wants to touch himself as he finishes buckling them in place. Instead, he looks up at Yamapi once more.

Yamapi nods in approval, stepping closer with the vest in hand. He drags his nails down Koki’s chest once more, tweaking a nipple on the way back up and smirking at the shiver and gasp that Koki can’t keep quiet. Again, Yamapi pinches, and then slings the vest around Koki’s shoulders and dresses him. The vest is just as close-fitting as the chaps, with matching silver hardware.

Finally it’s time for the last piece. Without being prompted, Koki bows his head, leaning toward Yamapi as he buckles the collar in place. Yamapi pulls it as tight as he dares, slipping a finger between the soft leather and smooth skin of Koki’s neck.

He inhales deeply, the overwhelming scent of leather and Koki’s cologne tickling his nasal passages and continuing through his nerves. He looks like something straight out of a porno, or perhaps a biker BDSM club.

“Perfect,” he mumbles, and Koki preens. “Turn around, let me see.”

Koki does as instructed, his ass standing out from the dark brown of the chaps, and Yamapi is pleased to note that there are not actually any tattoos there. He’d always thought that urban legend was bullshit.

“Very nice,” he says, stepping forward to grab a handful of flesh. His nose finds its way to the collar and he breathes it in, lips dragging along the small part of Koki’s collarbone that the vest doesn’t cover.

Koki swallows, breath hitching as he whispers. “Tomo-sama,” he begins, barely raising his eyes, “How may I serve you?”

Yamapi pulls away, reluctant to stop mouthing along Koki’s collarbone. He raises a hand to cup Koki’s cheek, thumb stroking along his pouty lower lip. “Oh, I have an idea, pet,” he says, and hooks his finger in the collar. “Let’s go somewhere more comfortable.”

Tentatively, Koki reaches out to take Yamapi’s free hand; he allows it, and follows along as Koki leads him to his bedroom. The view is very nice from where Yamapi is, unable to tear his eyes from the way the leather frames Koki’s ass.

Koki leads Yamapi to the edge of his bed and watches from beneath his eyelashes as he takes a seat. Yamapi spreads his thighs far apart enough for Koki to settle between them. “Down,” he says, thrilling as Koki drops to his knees with little trouble from the tightness of his chaps.

Koki’s hands rest on Yamapi’s thighs, the rough denim rubbing against his skin that has become sensitive from arousal. Yamapi wants it off, all of it, and starts to unfasten his belt before he remembers he has someone to do that for him.

“Take my pants off and then suck my cock,” he says clearly, and Koki visibly trembles at the tone.

Yamapi tries to keep his hands on either side of his body, clutching the sheets, but one of them ends up in Koki’s hair once his pants and underwear have been shoved down and Koki’s licking the tip of his cock. His other hand fingers the collar and he can’t let go, feeling Koki’s throat work as he takes the length past his lips and doesn’t stop.

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” Yamapi growls out.

A pleasant hum has him trembling, slowly rocking his hips to push further into the delicious heat of Koki’s mouth, a deep groan escaping from his lungs as he gives Koki’s hair an encouraging tug and rubs the leather of his collar between his fingertips.

Koki pulls back, dragging his tongue along the underside of Yamapi’s cock. He pauses to pay special attention to the head, then flicks his gaze up to Yamapi for a second before swallowing him down again. Yamapi can’t help groaning and thrusting into Koki’s mouth; it only serves to prompt Koki to begin sucking in earnest.

Yamapi takes that as free reign to hold Koki in place and keep bucking his hips more insistently. Koki simply groans and sucks him harder as Yamapi fucks his face. He’s pretty sure Koki would let him come all over his face, but as much fun as that would be, Yamapi wants even more.

“Up,” he says simply, and Koki looks reluctant as he pulls off of Yamapi’s length and pouts up at him. Yamapi pats his bare thigh and Koki crawls up into his lap, like an overgrown dog, and the words come automatically: “I want you to ride me, just like this.”

“Yes, Tomo-sama,” Koki replies, his breath tickling Yamapi’s neck, and Yamapi can’t keep his hands off of Koki’s vest. “Shall I prepare myself for you?”

The thought alone has Yamapi grinding against Koki’s thigh, the texture of the leather against his cock making him hotter, and Koki’s already reaching for his bedside drawer before Yamapi answers with a definite “Yes.”

One of Koki’s hands wraps around one of the wide straps of Yamapi’s top as he leans to rummage in the drawer. He fishes out a crumpled tube of lube and settles in Yamapi’s lap. “You won’t let me fall, will you, Tomo-sama?” Koki asks as he slicks the fingers of one hand.

Yamapi’s answer is simple; he runs his hands from where they’d been fisted in Koki’s vest to his hips, taking a handful of ass in each and spreading Koki open. Koki peers up at him, biting his lip as he slides one finger inside himself. He adds a second one quickly, letting out a hot gasp against Yamapi’s neck as he leans forward to nuzzle against him.

“Good,” Yamapi murmurs soothingly, and Koki relaxes as he scoots up Yamapi’s thighs. Their cocks brush together and Koki moans, a pitiful twang to it that has Yamapi twitch with need. “Hurry up.”

“Yes, Tomo-sama,” Koki pants, and his breath speeds up as he starts bouncing on his fingers.

Yamapi looks over Koki’s shoulders, rubbing his chin along the leather vest as he stares down to where Koki’s fingers are disappearing inside himself, now at three. Yamapi’s hips snap at the thought of being in their place, rubbing against Koki’s and he watches all three fingers push in and out as his noises escalate.

“I’m ready, Tomo-sama,” Koki gasps. “May I?”

Yamapi nods, grunting in surprise as Koki wraps his still-slick hand around his cock and slowly eases himself onto it. Once Koki is fully seated, he wraps both hands in the harness straps wrapped around Yamapi’s chest and experimentally rolls his hips. Koki is still so tight, and somehow Yamapi waits just a few moments before thrusting up hard, shocking a breathy moan from him.

“It’s a good thing you’re hanging on,” Yamapi murmurs. He thrusts again, once; Koki bounces with the movement and clenches his fingers. That’s the slowest Yamapi intends to go, and soon his hips begin pumping in and out of Koki.

It isn’t long before all Koki can do is hang on to Yamapi. Yamapi has a bruising grip on his hips as he feels all of Koki’s shuddering breaths against his neck, throat working under the collar and his skin beginning to shine with exertion.

Yamapi’s mouth latches onto his neck, hindering his bouncing but making up for it with a firm hold of his hips. Koki’s moan vibrates Yamapi’s nose as he pulls him downward with each sharp thrust up, hitting him harder and deeper.

Koki adjusts to the new rhythm, rocking back and forth, and Yamapi makes contact with all the leather he can reach. His face pressed in the collar, one hand on Koki’s back, and the other on his thigh, he feels completely immersed in the smell and texture as well as Koki’s tight body swallowing his cock over and over.

His groans increase, his pleasure mounting, and he gasps along with Koki when the wet head of Koki’s cock smacks against his chest.

“Get yourself off,” he hisses. “As fast as you can.”

Koki pries one hand away from its hold on Yamapi and wraps it around himself quickly. His rhythm is faster and more erratic than the deep way Yamapi is fucking him; occasionally the tip rubs against Yamapi’s chest.

“Are you trying to rub off on me?” Yamapi asks, unable to resist as he smacks Koki’s ass. He thrusts up once more, hips stilling as Koki clenches around him and cries out. As his orgasm is milked from him Yamapi bites down on Koki’s collar and breathes the scent of leather, and now sex, in deeply.

Vaguely he registers that Koki has finished too, a few warm sticky streaks of come splattered on his chest, though Koki managed to catch the majority of it. “Let’s clean up, Tomo-sama,” Koki says, making sure Yamapi’s attention is back on him as he lifts his hand and begins licking it clean. Even though he’s spent, Yamapi’s dick twitches, still buried inside Koki.

“Thanks,” Yamapi says sheepishly, and Koki breaks character to grin brightly at him. “I owe you one.”

“In that case…” Koki replies, biting his lip to stall. “What are your thoughts on motorcycle sex?”


End file.
